[Snarling it in a growl to wound Lucan's pride is easier than coming face to face with the sincere offer of a clean kill. Times he would have done the same-- times that he has for those beyond the Order's ability to mend-- living dead incapable of going on. Mercy.
For a moment he's too silent there, laid out in bloodied, broken angles. Mulling over nothing but the brutality that will come the moment Alastair decides to leave, how slim his odds for escape no matter how he's told himself to bide his time: wounds weakening what passing days fail to, so that if the moment shows itself he might lack the strength to tear free.
But were roles swapped out, were Perceval the one to survive and find himself here, no amount of relief would sway him to latch onto an easy escape. No, if he dies in here, he dies fighting.]
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For a moment he's too silent there, laid out in bloodied, broken angles. Mulling over nothing but the brutality that will come the moment Alastair decides to leave, how slim his odds for escape no matter how he's told himself to bide his time: wounds weakening what passing days fail to, so that if the moment shows itself he might lack the strength to tear free.
But were roles swapped out, were Perceval the one to survive and find himself here, no amount of relief would sway him to latch onto an easy escape. No, if he dies in here, he dies fighting.]
No.